Memories of Heros
by DiamondRussia
Summary: “It’s not you fault, Hermione, it never was. It’s not your fault that he dies. He dies for a cause that he believed in. And he’s a hero because of what he did.”
1. January 2001

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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_Death is not the worst that can happen to men.-Plato_

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The cold air made her shiver, and she pulled the large overcoat around her shoulders. They shook when her sobs racked through her body, and she clutched the locket around her neck.

A hand reached to take hers, and she fell to the ground in front of the grave. She stopped crying and sat there, looking dejected and tired, not uttering a sound.

Her shoulders sagged, and she just sat there, gazing at the tombstone.

The dark-haired man above bent down to pick her up and she put her arms around her neck, and let herself be carried away.

A crow cawed in the distance, and the wind picked up once more, displacing leaves on the little hill that sat under the cold winter sun. The bells in the nearby church rang, and the girl in the man's arms raised her head to look back at the only part of her past that mattered. A branch on the tree above it waved, as if to say goodbye, one last time. But, as everyone knew, she would always come back.

Until she herself died, she would go back to his grave, and back to the man she loved.

Until her death, she would never leave the man that her soul had died for.

--

"I think she's better today"

Harry lifted his head to look at his godfather. The room seemed colder than usual as the young wizard gazed at the man who had broken the girl in questions heart.

He sighed. "What makes you say that?"

He hoped that he wouldn't get an answer, and that Sirius would finally just let go of her, and his hope that she would come back from him and the dark.

"She's talking again. And cooking. She smiled at me, and she seems better. She was singing to. She really seems better."

Sirius looked earnest in his attempt, Harry had to give him that, but it wasn't enough. He knew Hermione, and it wasn't going to be a simple task to bring her out of the shell she had been living in for three years.

"And you fell for her charm, and you let her go see him again, didn't you?"

His face fell, and the older man paused, and raised his arms in defeat. "Yeah, well…"

Harry shook his head, and continued to read.

"Idiot."

Sirius shook his head as he strode out of the room. Harry looked up as his godfather walked past him, and looked back down at his book. "She's not gonna get better, Sirius. Just face it. You know I have."

Sirius whirled around at those words and glared at Harry, almost hissing, "You were the last person I thought would have given up on her, Harry! She depended on you, she still does, and you just leave her lying there for me to pick up! I'm not her father, and I'm not her caretaker, Harry, but you _are_her best friend. What is that supposed to mean, that you leave you best friend in the dirt?" Harry had turned red, but Sirius wasn't finished. All the emotions that he had felt about being a nurse for someone he almost didn't know were coming out, and Harry was the one who was going to take responsibility.

"Take her, Harry! Take her and make her better! Take her to his grave, take her to see Ginny and the children, take her to see Jamie and Luke, take her and make her get better! But don't make me do it, Harry, my son, because Merlin knows that you can take care of her better than I can."

Harry now had his mouth wide-open and Sirius was panting. "O-okay," Harry stuttered out.

--

Hermione was sitting in her rocking chair again, whispering softly to herself when Harry came in. She looked up, and then back into her lap and folded her hands, the music of her voice fading out. He can in front of her and kneeled, taking her hands with his, saying quietly "I haven't been a very good friend lately, Hermione."

She had a choked type laugh at this statement and he could see a tear trickling down her cheek. "I'm sorry about this, I really am, but I'm here now, and we'll get better together. Hermione-"

She put one of her hands over his mouth, speaking softly, "I'm over, Harry, I'm over him. I don't need to get _better_, I am better. All I want to do now is to see my children. I just lost my faith in what I did for a while, that's all. No need to worry."

"I sometimes wonder if my faith is what is what is stopping me from being a better than I am now. Is believing and not believing what divides us? I sometimes think that I want my children to grow up believing in something, but at the same time, I am glad that they won't. To grow up a wizard is exceedingly different than to grow up a muggle, isn't it? What would be better? Tell me. Was it my fault he died? Did I kill him?"

She was nearly hysterical now, and tear were streaming down her face, her body wracked with sobs, that, to Harry, seemed like they would never stop. "It's not you fault, Hermione, it never was. It's not your fault that he dies. He dies for a cause that he believed in. And he's a hero because of what he did."

She looked up at him, and he almost winced at the trust that was flowing from her eyes. It was as if he was just a child and he was her older brother. "Okay," Hermione whispered. She sank off the chair and into Harry's lap, her hand dropping her arms around him. He pressed his cheek against her hair, and she sighed.

"He was a hero…"


	2. November 1999

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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This section takes place in the past.

**--**

"Granger! Where the hell are those files on the secrecy clause?"

Hermione rolled her eyes slightly at the voice shouting from the fireplace in her Ministry office. She didn't have to turn around to know who that sneering voice belonged to. Draco Malfoy, old Hogwarts rival, tormentor, and co-worker in the Department of Mysteries. A fact that Hermione hated but could not complain to Harry and Ron about as it was, after all, the Department of Mysteries. Hermione would never dream of breaking the rule of never revealing what transpired during one's workday in the office. Though she would have loved to gloat to Harry and Ron about Draco having to work after his family lost its fortune after the war.

At least he had finally gotten it through his thick skull that she would not respond to "Mudblood", which he had referred to her as during their first three months of employment. The way he spat her surname though gave Hermione the impression that he found "Granger" synonymous to "Mudblood."

Hermione leisurely put her quill down and took her time straightening the papers on her desk. Draco glared at the back of her chair.

"C'mon, Granger, I don't have all bloody day!" he growled impatiently.

Hermione spun in her chair to face Draco's head in the fire. "Language," she reprimanded automatically, glaring back at him. Draco snorted.

"Bloody, bloody, bloody! Now just get those damn files, I have better places to be than in the office of a Mud--"

He didn't get a chance to finish for Hermione had tossed a quill at him before getting up to find the files. He made a muffled, indignant sound, tilting his head just enough to avoid being hit and scowled furiously.

"That was just rude," he said sullenly, not daring to insult her again for fear of being hit with something he couldn't just tilt his head out of the way of. Hermione turned from her orderly filing cabinet and gave him a disparaging look before going back to flipping through papers and folders arranged neatly in one of the drawers.

"When I want protocol lessons, I'll be sure to ask you," she muttered as she extracted he file he had asked for.

Draco snorted. "It's much too late for you, Gra-- mmpph!"

Hermione had shoved the folder in his mouth as he talked and went back to her desk, ignoring his muffled threats and insults. She heard the familiar _whoosh _as the communicator fire went out and sighed with relief. She didn't think it was possible for Draco Malfoy to be a bigger pain than he had been in school until they had both begun working in the same office shortly after the war ended.

She also didn't think she would ever a single bad thing to say about Professor Dumbledore but the man's faith and hand in "reforming" Malfoy was just foolish in her (and Ron and Harry's) opinion. She toyed with the idea of plotting a way to get Malfoy fired, remembered Harry and Ron's frequent attempts at trying to get him expelled at Hogwarts, and made a face at her temporary lapse into immaturity.

"You better watch it; your face will stick like that."

Hermione spun her chair around to face the door and saw Malfoy standing there, with his arms crossed and an irritated look on his face. She snorted and chose to ignore him until he went away.

Draco glared impatiently at her. "Well?"

"Well what?" Hermione asked without even looking up from the papers she suddenly became very occupied with.

"C'mon, Granger, you know how it works. I act like an arse, you snort and argue with me, I go away, come back and provoke you again, and you come close to inflicting violence on me. It's no fun if you quit halfway through the game."

Hermione looked up from her papers now and scowled. "It's not a game--"

Draco plopped down in the seat across from her desk and smirked at her. "It is, too," he said stubbornly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And the reason you provoke me until you nearly get hurt is?"

"What, you didn't think that just you goody-goody Gryffindolts took risks now and then?"

"Clever, Malfoy, real clever. Mind getting your ferret face out of my office so that I can get some actual _work _done?"

Draco snorted. "Like you can't get that bloody thing done in five minutes anyway. Come on, Granger, why isn't your head in the game today?"

"It's _not _a game, it's an annoyance--"

"Your little Quidditch star boyfriend dump you or something? Potter run off with Weasley so now all your life-partner options are dashed?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Very funny, Malfoy. Get the hell out."

"Hey, Granger, it's just a joke, loosen up," Draco snapped. "No one appreciates the Slytherin sense of humor."

Hermione stood up so fast that several items fell from her desk. Draco instinctively rose from his seat as well and regarded Hermione apathetically as she stalked towards the door of her office and held it open.

"_Out_!"

Draco scowled and strolled towards the door. "What is your problem? It's not like the bloody Slavic idiot really did have the sense to--"

He stopped short as Hermione slapped him across the face, red angry blotches forming on her cheeks. There was truth in what he said? Draco shifted uncomfortably; he wouldn't care, of course, if he hurt Granger's feelings but making a co-worker cry tended to be looked down upon.

"Look, Granger," he began pointedly, looking down at the trembling figure before him with a twinge of might have been guilt. Draco very nearly retched at this but assured himself it was for sake of how it might look to the office supervisors.

Hermione had her bent down so Draco couldn't tell if she was shaking from anger or sadness though his Slytherin instinct inclined him to the former. He rolled his eyes up and looked down at her again, cupping her face and not-so-gently raising her face up. He was surprised to see that he could not read the emotion on her face. And Gryffindors were usually an open-book if you wanted to know how they were feeling.

"Granger, relax!" he commanded impatiently. "No, no, look, don't cry, it'll look bad--"

Draco shifted uncomfortably as he saw her eyes well up. _Damn, damn, damn_, he thought anxiously. _She just had to pick now to be oversensitive._

"Grang--Hermione. Dammit."

Draco did the only thing he could think of when faced with a weepy female he needed to quiet down. He kissed her before he even thought about what he was doing. Not a deep kiss or even a very sweet kiss, but a kiss all the same.

A kiss with a Mudblood. _Granger_, even. Draco had his eyes open and looking wildly down at the surprised girl he was snogging and relaxed a little. Then he came to his senses and tore himself away from her.

"Oh. My God." Draco shut his eyes and leaned in against the doorframe, berating himself and trying to clear his head. In the process, he pinned Hermione against the frame and she pushed at his chest slightly to get him to back off.

"Malfoy! I need to breathe! And what do you think you're playing at?" she demanded, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her cloak.

"I honesty don't know," he replied with a strange expression on his face. "Though I suppose we could discuss it over drinks tonight?"

Hermione gaped. "You insult me, snog me, cut off my circulation, and then ask me out for drinks. You make absolutely no sense at all."

Draco snorted. "Well, at least you'd be out with someone better looking then Krum. Besides, maybe we'll get drunk and forget this whole thing."

"Oh, yes, your pallid and pointed face is so much better than Viktor's," Hermione retorted sarcastically.

Draco looked offended. "I am not pallid, I'm fair! Look, are you coming or not? We can go now and hopefully forget this whole incident before we come back. And if not, then I can lord it over Potter and Weasley that I've gotten further with their girlfriend than they have."

"Malfoy, you have a sick sense of humor."

"Learn to appreciate it. Now come on before I do something drastic."

Hermione rolled her eyes but walked out of the office with him, wondering what could possibly be more drastic than anything he had already done today. She decided it was best not find out.

--

Not your average day at the office, right?

A


End file.
